Let her anoint the posts, with virgin hand
4190To Janus consecrate the wether's spoil,
And to those gods which for our households stand,
Procure horn torches to be borne along,
And cry "Thalassus!" with a bridal song.
Provide me store of nuts to throw about
With a full hand unto the gaping boys,
That from the tumults of the struggling rout
All voices may be damped that speak not joys.
Over us two let the same Flamine fall,